


We Protect Each Other

by Sherlock1110



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Collars, Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Sherlock, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Kneeling, Leashes, M/M, Master/Pet, Punishment, Riding, Sub John, crawling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt;<br/>For some reason, I can't get the image of Sherlock sitting in an armchair, typing on his laptop while John is curled up asleep at his feet, naked except for his jumper and a leather dog collar, out of my mind. </p><p>So, here's my prompt. John is a submissive, and loves the feeling of being owned and controlled. Dom!Sherlock takes over him completely from the very first moment John moves into Baker Street, making him kneel at his feet and suck on his cock for hours, or sleep at the foot of his bed (they won't be needing that second bedroom after all). Or forbidding John from wearing any trousers or underwear in the flat and keeping him well-lubed so that whenever Sherlock felt like a fuck, all he had to do is bend John over the nearest surface. And fucking John so hard, so that he always remembers who owns him with every step. </p><p>But Sherlock also takes care of his new pet, letting John curl up against him, feeding him and stroking his hair. There are moments of quiet domesticity interspersed with the mindblowing sex. </p><p>Points for John being his usual badass self with everyone else. And for Sherlock wanting to rip Moriarty apart with his bare hands for daring to touch his pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ride me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sherlockian4evr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/gifts).



> For my beta, who's had a rough few days. 
> 
> A bit of a new one for me… Dom Sherlock!

Sherlock had been tapping away at his laptop for a long while. Recently he had taken to reading John's blog and commenting on the comments as John. So far, no one had noticed that it wasn't the blogger. The reason John couldn't respond was also the reason why his left leg was incredibly warm; comfortingly warm.

John Watson, the old army hero, was currently curled up in a ball at his feet, wearing nothing but his oldest jumper to keep him warm. Not that the flat was cold, but Sherlock liked it, so he did too. He was tucked into a ball in the gap between the chair and the detective's leg fast asleep.

Oh, and a very old deep red leather collar was wrapped around his throat, the leash looped over Sherlock's hand. It had belonged to Redbeard, Sherlock's childhood pet, and was almost as old as he was himself. John had felt extremely warm and full of gratitude when Sherlock had mentioned it. It took a while, but the younger man soon realised the sentimentality of what he had done/said.

The older man at his feet had been there for hours and was snoring softly, his head tilted back slightly to accommodate the leash. Sherlock had once offered him a position on the sofa next to him back when this all started many years ago, but the doctor had looked so put out like he was going to cry that Sherlock hadn't mentioned it again, for which John was eternally grateful. If Sherlock so much as requested that he sit on the sofa, throughout the time in the day he spent submitting, he panicked. It would take a long time for Sherlock to soothe him again and even then it would usually result in him being over the younger man's knee while he hit him ridiculously hard with his hand or a paddle.

The only time he would be inclined to say yes to being on the furniture, was if he was directly in the detective's lap, but otherwise he preferred the floor.

Sherlock paused with his typing and put the laptop on the coffee table. He glanced down at his pet at his feet, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he rested his head on the soft leather of his shoe. The collar was tighter than it used to be and John said he preferred it that way. Each inhalation reminded him whose he was.

He thought back to when all this had started:

_Sherlock had been watching his flatmate for days. He had been increasingly jumpy around the younger man. It had happened to such an extent that the detective had checked the doctor’s internet history. 'The powers of submitting' and 'How to submit to yourself' were the most recent searches and judging by the rest of the history, these were frequent searches. He clicked on the submitting to yourself link and found that he had been looking at couples in a Dom/sub relationship and even a Master/pet relationship. The second idea had jumped out at him and he'd read a lot more about it. The idea of a pet, someone being totally devoted to you, it just seemed to fit in with his need for attention, something a pet would be more than willing to offer. Judging by this information, something his blogger would be more than willing to offer._

_He had stayed hidden that night when John got back from the surgery. The doctor had called his name once or twice and then put the kettle on. However, he spotted his Belstaff on the hook. “Sherlock I know you're here somewhere. Aren't you a little old to be playing hide and seek?”_

_Sherlock appeared from the corner behind the fridge. “I've got one thing to say to you John. Just one thing. If you disapprove, I won't mind, we can go back to the way things were, preferably with the sex, but if that's not…”_

_“Sherlock, you prat. What is it, you're scaring me.”_

_The detective took a deep breath. “Kneel.”_

The look in his eyes had been nothing but lust at that moment.

He tugged at the collar when he felt himself getting hard.

John moaned something and twisted his position slightly.

Amused, more than annoyed, Sherlock gave a sharper tug. It was the silent code for; kneel or get your arse beat. With another groan, still half asleep, John rolled around onto his knees and shifted so he was between Sherlock's legs.

“That'a boy,” the Dom murmured. He tugged his pants down and leant back in the chair.

He had long since gotten used to the feel of a hot mouth engulfing his cock so he didn't jerk quite as bad as he used to. He just moaned as he felt himself fully harden.

“Don't finish me off, boy. I'll use something else for that.”

The doctor didn't respond, so Sherlock pushed him off his cock.

“I gave you an order. What's with you tonight?”

“Nothing, Master. Sorry, Master.”

“Not good enough. You know the rules.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Corner. 10 minutes.”

He muttered another, “Yes, Master” and then turned to shuffle into the corner.

He wasn't fully awake. Usually, when his Master tugged at his collar, he was awake immediately, but he must not have slept well last night. That was no excuse. For the few hours a day that he submitted, he was totally Sherlock's. That's the way he had wanted it; the way they'd both wanted it. Not responding to a direct order automatically meant corner time, despite his apologies.

His Master followed him over to the corner and leaned up to place the handle of his leash on the hook.

Sherlock left him there and he curled up, his arms tucking up under his chin and his head pointing down in the corner.

When the 10 minutes were up, he was well into subspace and barely noticed when his Master had released his leash and was tugging him back over to the chair.

“Try again, my boy.”

Sherlock had already released his partially hard cock and soon John went back to the task he had been set before he had messed up.

Obediently, John pulled off before Sherlock was about to finish.

When his Master had regained control of his head again, he leant forward and ruffled his pet’s hair. It was slightly longer than normal, but Sherlock liked it that way because he could tug and jerk it about.

“Up. Turn around.”

John obeyed. He was a bit wobbly on his feet as he had spent the last few hours on his knees, but he obeyed all the same.

Sherlock tapped the little blue plug seated between his cheeks with his index finger before he pulled it out in one smooth motion.

“Hold this, pet,” he ordered, placing the plug between his teeth.

His pet grimaced as he held it. He tasted not just his own release, but Sherlock's too, as well as a generous amount of lube, as he never wanted to damage his pet, and also the remnants of the last enema.

“Sit.”

John sat back and eased himself down onto his Master's cock.

“Slowly, boy. Don't want to split that pretty little hole of yours.”

John nodded his confirmation as speaking would eject the plug in his mouth.

Once he was all the way down and seated, rather uncomfortably- Sherlock was so hard it was almost like sitting on the dildo chair that his Master made him use when he was bad- except for the warmth.


	2. Protectiveness

“Up and down then, boy, you know the drill.”

Slowly but surely John began lifting himself up on warn out legs before lowering himself down again. 

“You can go faster than that. Do a good job, boy and I might let you come too.”

He nodded acquiescence again and picked up his speed, determined on pleasing his Master. 

Sherlock suddenly came with a grunt and John moaned as he was filled with essence of Sherlock. 

When the detective had ridden out the waves of pleasure he tapped his pet's hip and he eased up, moaning softly as his Master left him empty. He clenched though, knowing what came next. 

“Down,” came the next command and the army doctor leaned down to rest on his hands and knees, his ass up and presented. 

“Spit.”

The plug landed in Sherlock's hand and he eased it back in. 

“Does my good little boy want to get off too?”

John nodded. “Yes, Master. Please, Master.”

Sherlock kicked his legs apart and John spread them wide, his rock hard cock dangling between them. 

“You did good retaining control over that, pet. Now, seeing as you can come untouched, go ahead, meet me in the room when you're done.”

John appeared on the floor at the bedroom door a few minutes later but didn't dare look up, he may have orgasmed now but he would still be good for his Master. That's what Sherlock loved about the older man, the sense of wanting to please, not for his own satisfaction but his Dom’s. 

“Up here then boy, cuddle time.”

Smiling lopsidedly, he crawled to the edge of the bed and pulled himself up, laying his shorter body over his Master's. 

***

Sherlock was resting back against the headboard, his lover's head in the crook of his neck and his hand absently running through his hair. 

“You awake, babe?”

“Hmmm.”

“How was it tonight?”

“S'good.”

Sherlock smiled affectionately at the older man. “I need to go and meet Lestrade. Do you want to stay here and sleep? I'll bring Thai back?”

John was fully alert in seconds, sitting bolt upright. 

“As if I would leave you unprotected.”

“I'm the one that protects you.”

“We protect each other.”

Sherlock's smile was agreement enough. 

“C'mon.” He reached down and unbuckled his collar, despite the older man's moans of protest. “I might get you a scarf like mine, that way you can leave this on and no one would know.” He dropped the leather in his lap, “put it away, pet.”

He leaned over and slid it into the top drawer. “I don't care if anyone knows.”

“I know, but I do. They may think less of you and I'm not having that. For now though,” he dropped the slender metal chain in his hand, “I'm assuming this'll do?”

John nodded and smiled as he did the catch up. 

“C'mon then, babe.”

*** 

“What have we got, Lestrade?”

“Hello to you too.”

“Sorry, Greg, he's been a bit distracted today.”

“Isn't he always?”

“Anderson,” Sherlock snarled at the voice as he stepped out of the shadows. 

“This is my crime scene, Freak, I get enough of your shit on the indoor scenes, you won't contaminate this one.”

“I don't contaminate anything Anderson I see the evidence before me.”

“This is quite clearly a suicide I don't know why you're here.”

“Lestrade phoned, said he required my assistance.”

“On a suicide case?”

“There is clear evidence that this isn't a suicide,” the DI interrupted. 

“Like what?”

“The simple fact that you have found no evidence that there was anybody else here. At all. For a start.”

“Precisely. He was alone.”

“Somebody has clearly cleaned up the area as there is no signs at all, on a path like this?” Lestrade pointed out. 

“If you had said this to me, I could have run checks.”

“You wouldn't have listened seeing as it's 'your' crime scene.”

“Quite, my crime scene. Why is the Freak here?”

“I think you'll find he solves all the cases on your scenes, you prat, so shut up and get out of the way.” It was the first time the blond had spoken. 

Both Anderson and Lestrade turned to look at the army Captain. 

“You alright John?”

“Fine Greg. Not my fault he's a prick.” He took Sherlock's hand. “C'mon, babe, prove him wrong. Again.”

“Clear off Anderson,” Lestrade ordered before the older man could retaliate. He’d had enough. “I'm sure Sherlock hates you as much as you hate him.”

“Hate is a very-”

“Donovan?” He called, consequently cutting him off. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Please distract Phillip until Sherlock is done.”

His fellow officer nodded, but didn't seem happy about it. 

“Right then, Sherlock,” he clapped his hands together. “What have we got?”


	3. I let you down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

Sherlock watched as his pet was being controlled by Moriarty. The jerk was stood over the other side of the pool, his hands in the pockets of his suit looking smug and John was stood by the side door, his arms slightly to the side, his head low, not looking up at his Master. The worst part was, Sherlock knew it was his own fault. If he hadn't insisted his pet go out for some time while he headed for the slam dunk of results at the pool with the consulting criminal, then he would be safe and sound at home. Safe and sound at home meant fantastic blowjobs and mind blowing sex. Sherlock was beginning to wish he hadn't given the tail Mycroft had set up the slip. As much as he hated Mycroft interferences, it was times like these he really rated his brother. Then it dawned on him, he had to work bloody hard to fool Mycroft's men. They were well trained, highly skilled and had so much patience they could compete with John. Moriarty, on the other hand, would have also been aware of the tail the youngest Holmes always had and although he would know he'd slipped from their sight, he wouldn't have been aware of John being followed.

John had only been followed over the last year since Sherlock had demanded it of his brother. He worried enough when they were together, but when the doctor was alone the extra protection meant a lot. That also meant the little red dots, if Sherlock trusted Mycroft, (he did, but would never admit that) hovering around the room were not Moriarty's but quite possibly MI6. 

Moriarty walked around the edge of the pool, each step slow and deliberate. He stopped beside John ruffling his hand through his hair. 

“You get your hands off him!” Sherlock snarled, before he could help it. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” the consulting criminal held a hand up and Sherlock froze. He knew it was a decoy, but he needed to play this safe, for once, for his pet. “Is Sherly scared of the damage I could do to his pet?”

“You couldn't damage a paper bag!”

The madman turned his back on the detective and ran his hand over the bombs wired into John's jacket. 

This was Sherlock's chance. The cocky sod would not have made mistakes. Sherlock had whilst caught off guard. This was his chance to fix that. The detective closed his eyes and hoped against the odds that, for once, Mycroft had been helpful and took a swing at Jim, when there was no immediate fire, he knew the red dots were Mycroft's men and he knocked Moriarty back into the pool. He fell with flailing arms and landed with a rather exaggerated splash. 

He immediately turned his attention to his pet and tugged the jacket off throwing it at the man struggling in the water.

John collapsed back onto his arse, his head slamming back into the wall, trembling slightly. 

Sherlock knelt in front of him, clearly panicked. He cupped his cheek, but John pulled away, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, burrowing his head into the gap. 

The side door opened and in came a string of men. Of course, Mycroft was at the back, swinging his umbrella and his all-seeing eye searching for his brother. 

Jim was causing havoc just swimming around and cackling as the British Government officials had no idea what to do in order to catch him. Sherlock would have found it amusing if his one true love wasn't cowering at his feet. For once, he was glad to see Mycroft. He gathered John up in his arms and encouraged him to stand. 

“There's a car waiting, Sherlock.”

He smiled his thanks to his brother and helped John towards the door. 

***

As soon as they were in Baker Street, John dropped to his knees at Sherlock's feet. 

“I'm sorry, Master. I'm sorry.”

He took his normal position- a tight ball, his head tucked in and looking at the floor. 

Sherlock gaped down at him for a moment for crashing to his knees and taking John's head in his hands. “No, no, no! John-” he cut off as his pet flinched at the name. 

“Pet, shh. My gorgeous, brilliant pet, look at me.”

John didn't want to look up, but his Master had given him an order, so he remained as submissive as he could and looked up. 

“What's wrong, pet?” Sherlock asked softly. He was extremely worried about his doctor's state of mind. 

“I let you down, Master.”

“No, no, no, baby. You did no such thing. If anything, I let you down.”

“No, Master!” John immediately protested and then whimpered, trying to lower his head again. “I'm sorry, Master.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and stood up. He needed to focus his pet. “Stand up, Boy.”

John obeyed at once, his shoulders rounded and head down. 

“Tea. 2 cups. Meet me in the bedroom. Naked.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sherlock stripped his suit off as quickly as possible and scrambled into bed. 

It was a very sheepish John that appeared with the 2 mugs of tea. Once again his head was down. 

“Over here, pet.”

With the mugs of tea safely on the side, John cautiously clambered up onto the bed to be smothered by Sherlock as he grabbed him and pulled his head in under his chin. 

“You're my perfect, gorgeous boy and you never ever let me down,” Sherlock whispered, running his fingers through short spiky hair.


	4. Make up Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by sherlockian4evr

A few hours later John was still wide awake and still tucked into Sherlock's side. The detective knew he needed to do something, John couldn't remain awake indefinitely, thinking about letting his master down when he hadn't. 

When Sherlock shifted, John whimpered, immediately moving from beside him to a heap on the floor. 

“No, no, no, pet,” Sherlock tried, but the doctor just kept his head down. He decided if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, he'd remembered John saying it once a long time ago. So he slipped off the side of the bed to join him, wrapping him back up in his arms. He knew what John needed. John needed to be fucked. Fucked and then cuddled more. He stood up suddenly, making the older man jolt. 

“Up you get, boy, on the bed.” 

Hearing it as an order, John complied. 

“Wrists,” he added, moving towards him with the leather fur lined cuffs

With clear apprehension he held his hands out. Sherlock cupped his cheek, “You're not being punished, pet, you are definitely not being punished. 

“Yes, Master.”

“You can call me, Sherlock- or not.”

John's eyes has widened at that and he'd pushed himself back into the headboard. 

“Shh,” Sherlock soothed. He just couldn't help messing up today. “I'm going to put the mittens on, OK?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, Master.” The Dom slid the mittens over his hands, joining them together behind the headboard. Then he gripped the doctor's waist and pulled him down the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it back over his shoulders, mesmerised with his scar for a moment before he kissed it and moved down the bed, getting rid of his pants, then he laid on top of him. “Look at me, Pet.”

Worried eyes met the detective's own and he smiled. “Just concentrate on the now.”

John nodded, sure he wasn't able to form words. 

Sherlock had a handful of lube from somewhere and lathered his cock up with it. He slipped the plug out and pressed it into the mittens that engulfed the doctor's hands. He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, the same time as leaning down to kiss his pet. 

John jerked as Sherlock hit his prostate. “Come on, pet, it's ok to get hard,” he murmured against his lips. He hummed in response and Sherlock sped up slowly.

John moaned and the detective sighed in relief as he felt him smile beneath him. He reached down between them and wrapped his hand around John's cock moving it slowly, as slowly as what he was moving inside his boy.

“Master! Master, please-”

“Shh,” Sherlock whispered, pressing his lips back against the older man's and pushing his tongue in. “Come when I do,” he murmured. John nodded, his hands straining at the cuffs they were tied in. 

“Master, please, I need to touch you.”

The detective seemed to ponder this and reached up to remove the mittens, leaving the soft fur around his wrists. John's arms immediately wrapped around the younger man's neck. 

“You're mine, pet, no one else's, you get that, don't you?”

John nodded and was relieved to feel Sherlock shooting himself inside him, John came too, a split second later. 

“Now I'm staying right here, inside you, go to sleep.”

He was pleased to see John's eyes flutter shut immediately. 

Job well done, Sherlock, well done indeed.


End file.
